Damn you
by wsinclaire
Summary: "We never really talk anymore..." Arthur and Morgana have a little chat one evening. An apple is thrown into the equation, and Boom; sin has never been more delicious.
1. Chapter 1

Rating: M for language and content.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended; these characters belong to Merlin and the BBC, I own nothing.

Pairing: Morgana/Arthur

Set early in the Merlin Universe.

I know these two are related, but some love stories are bigger than the people in them.

If this offends you, please give it a miss.

Two chapters only.

Enjoy.

For P.

WS

"We don't really talk anymore," he observed.

They had eaten alone and the sound of their silence had started to bother him.

It never got this awkward when his father was also present, but when it was just the two of them, they tended to have either a pointless argument or, well, hardly any interaction at all.

He could no longer read her, no matter how hard he tried, and tonight he wondered when he lost her; when had he stopped looking closely, when had he stopped listening to all those things she never said? When had they suddenly grown up? And how had he missed it?

He watched her rise from her chair, smooth down her dress, give him a smile.

"There are a lot of things we don't do anymore, Arthur," she replied and made to leave.

"Morgana," he called after her and she turned around. "Like what?"

He watched her think about it.

"I don't know; go riding all day."

He laughed. "That's because we've explored all of Camelot and then some."

"That's true. Besides, you are a terrible conversationalist. All you ever want to talk about is you, so I'd rather ride on my own these days."

"I … I resent that," he said, and it was her turn to laugh. She wrinkled her nose at him and stuck her tongue out. His heart missed a beat.

"Remember when we carved our names in that tree?" he asked her and she rolled her eyes in response. "You cried for a week, because I told you that trees had feelings, too." He let out a shrill, girly giggle and she walked back to the table, picked a grape off her plate and threw it at his head.

"You were such a prat that day, and yes, Arthur, I do remember. How could I forget?"

"I so wish you could have seen your face. Honestly, Morgana, it was sheer horror. I thought I'd never stop laughing."

She threw another grape at him. Then another one.

"Stop it. Don't play with food," he chided and ducked.

"What? You'd rather I throw this plate at you?" she smiled sweetly and popped a grape into her mouth.

"No need to be aggressive," he said, got up and poured himself more wine. She held out her empty cup to him, and he poured her some wine, too.

"Thank you," she said, looked him in the eye and walked around to his side of the table. Her subtle movements did strange things to his brain and the way she looked at him made the air crackle. She stood right beside his chair, looked down at him.

When did you become so irresistible, he thought.

She took a sip of her wine. "Good night, Arthur," she said. "Before we scratch each other's eyes out I shall go to my chambers."

Before he knew what he was doing he'd grabbed her hand.

"What? You want a fist fight?" she looked at him, and he wondered if she was mocking him.

"Come on, Morgana, don't go and drink on your own," he said, and their fingers lingered, briefly entwined.

"Who says I'll be drinking alone?" she asked and he released her.

"Oh? Do tell," he demanded, leaned back in his chair.

"Tell you? I'd rather cut my tongue out," she retorted, quick as a flash.

He looked her up and down, wished he hadn't done it, then turned to the guards by the door.

"Leave us," he commanded, and when he found her eyes again he spotted light amusement.

The doors fell shut with a heavy thud, its echo bouncing off the walls for what felt like a thousand years. He was incredibly aware of her presence.

"You shouldn't have sent them away. It'll start talk," she said, but he saw that rebellious twinkle in her eyes.

"Come on. Everyone in Camelot knows you're like a sister to me," he quickly said with as much manliness as he could manage.

"Is that why you want to be alone with me?" she asked and took a sip of wine. He watched her; her mouth oh so distracting.

"I simply want to know who it is you are talking about," he replied. "I mean, I should have seen it coming. Every man in this kingdom has the hots for you."

She watched him, didn't reply, just watched him, and he wondered again when he'd stopped being able to read her. He suddenly felt unbelievably hot and wanted to stop himself from babbling, but couldn't.

"Yes, they all love you. Even Merlin," he snorted, then drank some wine.

"Merlin?" she enquired, leant against the table, facing him. Her eyes were bright, her smile soft and genuine. He liked it.

"It's pathetic. Merlin's jaw literally hits the floor every time he sees you. Quite funny, actually."

She pondered over his statement for a long moment.

"Merlin," she whispered.

"Morgana! No!"

"Why not?" she asked.

"No."

"But Merlin's so cute."

"Cute?" Arthur barked.

"Yes. He's got such a cute little face. And such pretty eyes, don't you think?"

"Morgana!" Arthur warned, pointed his cup at her. "Hands off of Merlin. You'd probably scare him away forever, or you'll have him for breakfast and then I'm left with him and his broken heart. No thanks."

She laughed lightly which made him chuckle, too.

"I know it's not Merlin. Who is it?" he queried again. "Spill it." And I'll kill the bastard, he added in his head.

"I don't kiss and tell, Arthur," she pulled a face at him.

"That is an excellent quality to have … for someone in your position," he added.

"Yes, isn't it just? And therefore, Arthur Pendragon, you shall never hear any details," she raised her glass to him and drank. "Unless, of course, you should hear anything from Merlin."

He groaned. "Morgana, seriously. Hands off. Poor guy. He'd probably fall hopelessly in love with you or something."

"But every girl wants someone to fall hopelessly in love with her, doesn't she?" she asked, sweet as pie, not letting go of his eyes. "But how would you know?"

He took in a sharp breath. No come-back. Picked up a grape and threw it at her. "Shut up Morgana."

She found another one and threw it right back at him.

"Pick your fights, Morgana," he warned, reached for an apple.

"You throw that at me and I swear I am going to make your life a living hell, Arthur Pendragon," she warned.

He didn't break eye contact for a moment and threw the apple straight up in the air before catching it again with the same hand.

Before she realized what he was doing, she'd ducked under the table.

Arthur burst out laughing.

"I hate you," she shouted at him.

"Morgana; that was the face," he croaked, fell apart laughing. "The tree carving face of sheer horror."

He kept laughing hysterically until he had tears in his eyes.

"You are intolerable, you know that?" she shot at him and tried to snatch the apple out of his hand.

"Stop it," he winced as she pulled on his arm, trying to unfold the fruit from his clenched fist.

"Stop it, Morgana, stop it," he laughed and made her struggle.

She grabbed hold of his one hand with two of hers, and next thing she knew he'd pulled her unceremoniously onto his lap.

"Morgana, let go," he laughed, and so did she now.

"Not until you give me that apple," she whispered.

"So you can give me a concussion? I don't think so."

"You said not to play with food, so don't," she pulled his arm hard.

"Ouch. What are you going to do with it?"

"Eat it, of course. What else would I want to do with it?" she asked through half-closed eyes and although he didn't believe a word of it he loosened his grip.

She grabbed it immediately and he was already regretting having let go, because suddenly he couldn't think of what to do with his hand. Put it on her leg? She'd probably scratch his eyes out.

She took a bite and looked at him sweetly.

"Apple?" she offered and held it in his face.

"Thanks. I think I'll have another drink," he said and she passed him his cup from the table.

He took a long sip and looked at her.

She held his gaze, eating the apple, one bite at a time. Slowly.

Her lips wet and juicy; damn her.

There was something in her eyes that he couldn't place.

Was she mocking him?

Was it a challenge?

Were they playing a game?

Was he losing?

All he knew was that he was unbelievably hot and her proximity was mindboggling, making him dizzy … or maybe it was the wine?

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I was just thinking that you should probably eat more fruit," she shrugged and shoved the apple in his face.

He took a bite, tried to not think about the fact that she'd had her mouth on it moments earlier.

Two could play this game … if they were playing one. He washed it down with the last of his wine. She took the empty cup off him and placed it back on the table. Again, he had no idea what to do with his hand, and so he took the apple from her.

"You're getting apple all over me. You're done with this," he whispered and threw it across the dining hall.

She laughed a gentle laugh and wiped her mouth.

"Are we fine Morgana?" he asked.

"What do you mean? Fine?"

"I mean; we don't really talk anymore or go riding, or carve trees, and all we ever seem to do is fight, but you know that … "

"You love me really?" she interrupted and his throat went dry.

"That you can't get enough of me? That I am always right and you are wrong? That I win and you lose? That I am the better rider?" she babbled on and on, and he couldn't help but get caught up in it.

When she had run out of exampled, she finally took a deep breath.

"On second thought, Morgana," he cleared his throat. "I am not going to finish that sentence. You are the most infuriating person I have ever met, and I actually despise you a lot."

"Just like a sister?" she asked, and again he saw the twinkle in her eye.

"Morgana, I … "he stuttered, wasn't ready for what he wanted to say, and quickly before his eyes could spill the beans, he dropped his gaze to her necklace.

"My father gave you this," he mumbled and touched it with his index finger. The skin underneath was the softest thing he'd ever touched, and it gave him goose bumps. He couldn't look at her.

Please tell me to stop, he thought, but she couldn't read his mind.

"I think it belonged to my mother."

"It did," she said and he felt her eyes on him.

"I don't know anything else about it, do you?" she whispered, and he shook his head.

"My father is a very private man," he found her eyes again, and when he did, he could have sworn he was on fire.

"Morgana, you need to stop looking at me like that," he told her.

"Like what?" she queried, tilted her head to one side. A long dark strand of hair fell over her shoulder and down her front. He wanted to touch it so badly.

"Like that," he replied. "I'm feeling surprisingly sober, but I know for a fact that I've had too much to drink, and quite frankly, this …" he gestured to her sitting on his lap, "is not helping."

"Don't be such a drama queen, Arthur," she told him. "I thought we were having a nice time."

"We're having a very nice time," he said and traced the back of her hand with his index finger. Slowly, carefully.

For God's sake, tell me to stop it!

"Because, you know, there's still time. I could still go and find Merlin," she teased and he hated it.

"And what do you think you are going to do with Merlin?" he asked voicelessly.

"Oh, I could think of a thing or two," she contemplated.

"Morgana," he groaned.

"I could kiss his sweet little face," she suggested.

"I don't know about that," he said, took a deep breath, took his hand off hers. "I reckon Merlin is a terrible kisser."

"And why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch."

"Well, I reckon that you are a terrible kisser, Arthur Pendragon."

"And I reckon that you, Morgana, need to back off before I do something really, really stupid and prove you wrong."

"Oh?" she said, her eyes shining. And then she looked at his mouth.

Fatal error.

Electric shock.

When did you become so irresistible?

He licked his lips in response.

Don't look at me that way.

Tell me to stop.

But nothing.

Time stood still for only that very significant instant and he leaned up and into her and gently brought his mouth to hers, and then he thought of nothing at all for a long, long time as he was starting to lose himself completely in her.

Her little noises of pleasure went through him like bolts of lightning. He felt her every movement, every breath. Her mouth was the single most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

He picked her up in one swift movement, getting up from the chair. Sat her on the table and pulled her closer, closer, closer.

You're mine, he thought. You've been mine from the beginning.

How could he ever have enough of kissing her?

He planted lingering kissed down her soft neck, trying hard not to let her little moans drive him absolutely crazy.

He pushed her skirts up, his shaking hand touched her ankle, knee, thigh, and he knew he had to…

"Stop it!" he said, out of breath, took a step back; his hand brushed through his hair.

"Morgana! We need to stop … God! Or I'm going to have you on that table," he said, big breath out.

She looked stunned, flustered, shockingly beautiful.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Well, that would certainly make future banquets a lot more entertaining," she whispered, got off the table, smoothed down her dress.

Her eyes were full of questions, and he couldn't go there.

"I'm sorry Morgana," he said, his voice shaking, and when he looked at her again, her eyes were shooting daggers.

"How dare you, Arthur?" she hissed. "You can't kiss me like that and then say you're sorry."

"I … I'm sorry," he babbled ridiculously and she never looked him in the eyes again that night.

"Way to cheapen things, Arthur. You must be so proud," she said quietly, and he watched her walk all the way across the hall and through the heavy wooden doors.

His lips were tingling, his insides were on fire.

He sat down and rested his spinning head on the table.

Damn you Morgana.

Damn you and the way you just made me feel.


	2. Chapter 2

Rating: M for language and content.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended; these characters belong to Merlin and the BBC, I own nothing.

Pairing: Morgana/Arthur

Set early in the Merlin Universe.

I know these two are related, but some love stories are bigger than the people in them.

If this offends you, please give it a miss.

Picks up right after Chapter 1.

Enjoy.

For P.

WS

Merlin found him hours later with his head still on the table.

He couldn't for the life of him stop reliving those crucial five seconds of complete idiocy that lead to her storming off.

He could still taste her on his lips.

"Are you alright, Sire?"

"Do I look alright to you, Merlin?"

"Ehm, maybe not."

"Exactly. I am not alright. And where have you been?"

"Ehm, I … what happened?"

"Well, let me tell you," Arthur said, finally rose from the chair. "I have done something so unbelievably stupid and then managed to top that stupid with a little bit of more stupid. Quite frankly, I can't even believe it myself."

"So unlike you …"

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No. Definitely not," he said and wondered how Morgana could possibly think of Merlin as cute.

He strode across the hall, passing the core of the apple on the way. Gave it a good kick. Watched it explode into millions of pieces.

Damn her all over again.

WS

The days that followed were hell thanks to her. She was stirring the cauldron of despair, taking pleasure in his suffering.

She went out of her way to a.) ignore him and b.) flirt outrageously with Merlin.

It had to stop.

He'd have to make her stop before it drove him insane.

Problem was, she never seemed to be on her own anymore and as the days went on he grew more and more impatient, moody and desperate.

When he caught himself hiding in an alcove ready to pounce on her, he knew he'd reached a new low, but it didn't prevent him from seeing his plan through. He shook his head at himself.

What had happened to him?

One kiss and he'd lost it?

Really?

When he heard her footsteps his heart was beating out of his chest.

In one swift movement he'd grabbed her and pulled her into the narrow space with him.

She let out a girly scream and he quickly covered her mouth.

When she realized what was going on, she looked like she was going to scratch his eyes out.

"Arthur!" "Morgana!" They said at the same time. A breathless pause followed.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" She hissed.

"Hands off Merlin," he told her. It wasn't at all what he wanted to say, but it was the first thing that came out.

"What? Have you lost your mind? You don't tell me what to do."

"Morgana. I'm sorry," he babbled.

"Yes, I know, you've already made that perfectly clear," she whispered, her anger burning red hot, "Well, I'm not, sorry, Arthur. So there."

"Come with me," he said, fighting to get control of the situation.

"What?"

"Come with me. We're going for a ride," he said and grabbed her wrist a bit tighter.

"I am not going anywhere with you," she answered back and he released her.

"I need to speak with you, Morgana."

"You are already speaking with me."

"I can't speak to you properly here in case I end up screaming," he said between clenched teeth, "That's why you are coming with me. Now!" He pulled her by the wrist down the corridor, dragged her all the way to the stables. Asked for their horses to be made ready.

"I can saddle my own horse," she spat and five minutes later she took off like a woman possessed.

"Morgana, slow down. Do you have a death wish?" He shouted, "Where are you even going?"

"Does it matter?" she yelled back, and disappeared into the forest.

He finally caught up with her a good 15 minutes later. She had stopped at a clearing.

"What do you want from me, Arthur?"

He got off his horse, winced and cracked his neck back into the right position. "Ouch. You always were the better rider," he remarked and stumbled towards her.

"And don't you forget it."

"Get off," he asked of her.

"No."

"Come on, Morgana, get off. Talk to me."

"So you can apologize again for kissing me?"

"I'm sorry I said I was sorry," he exclaimed, holding out his arms, "But I didn't … I was shocked."

"Shocked?"

"Shocked, yes, why is that so hard to believe?" he asked and she looked at him like she'd never seen him before.

"Come on, Arthur, like you had never entertained that thought," she smiled bitterly.

"Fine, I admit it. But when it happened I was … surprised."

"Surprised? Surprised about what?"

"Surprised about the way it made me feel, damn it. Now get off the horse."

She dropped the reigns and jumped onto solid ground.

"Are you sorry?" she asked him.

He shook his head.

"No. I'd kiss you a million times over. It's all I can think about. You and that damn apple. I don't think I can ever eat another apple without thinking about you," he smiled.

"I don't think I can eat at that table again without thinking about you," she said and allowed the smile that was gently tugging on the corners of her mouth.

"Well, it'll certainly make future banquets a lot more entertaining."

She looked at her hands and laughed softly.

"Morgana …" he started. But Morgana what?

"What do you want from me, Arthur?" she asked softly. "Why are we here?"

"I … I want everything from you, Morgana. But that means that I am also wanting to defy every rule in the book. There has always been a line …"

"Yes, and then we crossed it," she said.

He took a couple of steps towards her, got close enough to touch her, but stopped himself.

Why do you have to be so damn lovely, he thought.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he whispered, his eyes caressed her face, her mouth.

"I can't stop thinking about you either," she confessed, her eyes all over him, and just like that he no longer cared.

He grabbed her by the neck and pulled her towards him. He kissed her hungrily, her little moans making him hotter and hotter.

"I want you," he mumbled against her lips.

She was breathing heavily.

"I want you," she replied, and two seconds later they were lying in the soft, high grass. He thought his head was going to explode.

His hands were getting bolder, exploring her curves, and although they were on solid ground it certainly didn't feel like it.

He kissed her neck.

"Arthur," she whispered; the way she said it sent shockwaves through his body.

"What?" he asked, dragged himself away from her soft skin, watched her open her eyes, dark pupils revealing lightest green.

"Nothing. Don't stop," she said, almost embarrassed.

"I won't. Not a chance. Although I haven't exactly imagined doing this here."

"Oh?" she smiled, "And how have you imagined it? Certainly not under your father's roof; with a girl you think of as a sister," she chuckled wickedly, and he was quick to pinch her.

"Shut up, Morgana."

"Kinky, Arthur," she whispered, leant up and bit his bottom lip.

"You're too much," he chuckled.

"Sleeping with the King's ward; is that treason I wonder," she contemplated.

"We can both go to hell together for all I care," he decided, "Because you're guilty, too, for seducing the future King."

"I have done no such thing," she said, fake outrage gave her that twinkle in her eye that drove him mad.

"You're not so innocent, Morgana. You have played this game for months. Your eyes give you away. At first I thought you were looking at me with severe hatred, but then I realized that you are simply insanely attracted to me."

She pinched him between the ribs. "You're such a cocky little shit, Arthur. I wish I fancied mature men."

"Aha. So you do admit that you fancy me."

"I could never fancy anybody so utterly obnoxious, Arthur Pendragon," she told him, ran her hands through his hair, pulled him closer and kissed him hard.

"Morgana, I swear I am going to rip your clothes off," he warned, a firm hand tracing down her body, taking in her hips, the curve of her ass.

"Please, don't. How would I explain that?" she breathed in his ear, "But you are welcome to take it all off. Unless you don't know how," she teased and sat up quickly.

He had to catch his breath.

Looked up at the sky.

Twilight.

Looked at her.

Her hair was a mess, her pale cheeks flushed, her delicious mouth swollen.

He would have promised her anything.

I'm sorry I didn't love you sooner.

I'm sorry I never told you that you are beautiful.

Watched her watching him.

"Come here," she said and reached for his hand, "You have to undo me carefully here," she started to explain.

"I know how to get you out of the damn dress," he hissed, got up and knelt behind her quickly.

He had to concentrate so hard to keep his fingers from shaking.

He couldn't resist her neck. Had to kiss it, brush away her dark locks and kiss it. Found her ear, "I know what to do, Morgana, do you?"

It was a question disguised in a tease, but he was deadly serious.

Had she been here before, had she done this? And if so with whom? And how had it gone unnoticed?

She never answered him, just giggled.

"Oh yes, I remember, you don't kiss and tell," he mumbled, unlaced the dress, revealing her naked back.

Touched her there with his fingertips.

Watched her shiver.

Then continued.

Planted gentle kisses on her shoulders, behind her ear.

"You want this?" he asked, and she turned around to him, holding her dress up with just one hand.

"Arthur, you think too much."

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I know. And you don't think enough."

"And we meet in the middle. Come on now; I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she winked at him.

Damn you, Morgana.

He'd never undressed more quickly.

Pulled her into a tight embrace, down into the grass. His head was spinning, his heart was going crazy.

He kissed her hard, possessively. "I'm going to kill whoever has seen you like this," he mumbled between kisses that were getting so hot they were scorching his lips.

"You wouldn't kill your own servant, Arthur, would you?" she teased, but he couldn't take it. Not now, not like this.

Pinned her down underneath him, held her two wrists above her head with one of his hands.

"You're mine, Morgana."

"Ownership, Arthur?" she asked, and he looked into her eyes.

You belong with me, he thought. "I think we need to stop talking," he suggested.

"Shame. I was just about to tell you what I like," she pouted.

"How about I work it out by myself?" he suggested, his mouth on her neck, one hand on her breast.

He kissed across her collarbone and down until he could take her nipple into his mouth. He gently sucked on it, and she wiggled impatiently.

"Hold still," he demanded, but she couldn't.

He continued, his hand travelled down and down, across her stomach and between her legs.

She gasped.

He thought that maybe in another life the way he was touching her now may have embarrassed him, but not now, not here. The joke was over, and he sensed that she knew it, too; felt the change in her body, that little bit of surrender one breath at a time.

He felt his own lust burn into longing.

"Morgana," he whispered for no other reason but to say her name.

"Arthur, please, I want to touch you."

He watched her open her eyes. He let go of her hands and they firmly gripped his strong shoulders, caressed his naked chest. There was no hesitation at all and he hated that she knew what she was doing. Damn it, Morgana, who was it, he thought and felt the most irrational desire to make her his, to erase every memory of every man before him.

Kissed her endlessly, planted kisses all the way down her body, put his mouth between her legs.

"No, Arthur, no," she protested quietly, half-heartedly, her hands in his hair.

"Yes, yes," he replied, because there was no way in hell he wasn't doing this to her.

He held her firmly by the hips, continued his sweet torture.

Shallow breaths were interrupted only by incoherent nonsense.

He went slowly, wanting to learn her, memorize her; know her in this way.

When she whispered his name he thought it would send him stir crazy.

"Arthur. Arthur. Yes."

He felt her come, all her muscles tensing up, the unmistakeable rapture washing over her. Then she lay still, completely motionless except for her heavy breathing.

He kissed her mouth. Hunger and satisfaction mixed in a sensation that tasted like them.

When she finally opened her eyes to look at him he wanted to cry a little bit.

"I hate you," she whispered, and he had to laugh.

"Excuse me? I make you come and now you hate me? A simply thank you would suffice, my lady."

She looked at him in a way she'd never looked at him before.

"What? No man has ever made you come?" he asked, not even trying to wipe the cocky grin off his face.

She tried so, so hard not to smile, failed miserable, "Damn you, Arthur," she giggled and the secret was out, "Before this I still had hope that you'd be a terrible lover as well as utterly obnoxious, but now I am not sure I'll ever give you up willingly."

"Good," he said and kissed her quickly.

Much like her eyes earlier, her hands were now all over him. He could feel the blood rushing through his ears. When she took his cock in her hand and started stroking him, he had trouble comprehending what was happening.

Him and Morgana.

Always knew it would happen.

Had been right here in his wildest fantasies a million times.

"Arthur."

Snapped out of it, looked into sparkling green eyes.

"I want to sleep with you."

He wondered if she'd ever said this to anyone else, but couldn't even go there in his head.

Pushed into her, tried to set a steady pace, but it was hopeless. He was way too excited to take control. Looked at her face and nearly lost it: her eyes shut, her mouth slightly open. Felt her hard nipples brushing against his chest as he thrust into her.

His brain barely registered when she said his name.

"Look at me," she demanded, but he couldn't keep his eyes open.

"Arthur, look at me," she said again, and when he did he was a dead man. He came not three seconds later, the moment unbearably intimate.

Collapsed on top of her, and she didn't complain, but allowed him to squash her until he rolled off and onto his back.

She cuddled up against him, her hair tickled his arm, his shoulder, his chest.

Touched her naked skin and felt her get goose bumps immediately.

"If you tell me you're sorry I am going to kill you," she sniggered.

"I'm only sorry we didn't do it on the table."

"Well, it's not too late. If you weren't such a lousy rider we could probably have a quick one before supper. Imagine your father's face if he walked in on us," she chuckled.

"That is not even funny, Morgana."

"You know it is."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Shut up, Morgana," he said, rolled back on top of her, covered her mouth with his hand and then took it away to kiss her.

She kissed him back, until he could feel the smile on her lips.

"What?"

"Arthur, I … nothing."

He looked into her eyes and she let him.

Brushed a stray hair from her beautiful face.

"Say it," he demanded, but she looked at him like she didn't know what he was talking about.

"Come on, spill it," he asked of her again, but she shook her head.

"You can sleep with me, but you can't say it?" he asked.

"I don't think we should go there, Arthur," she warned.

"We already went there, Morgana," he laughed and poked her between the ribs, then started tickling her mercilessly.

She wiggled, laughed until she had tears in her eyes, tried desperately to get away from him, to stop him, but he wouldn't listen. Finally managed to roll on top of him and silenced him with a lingering kiss.

"Fine, I'll go there," she said, traced his lips with her index finger, "I hate you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Try again," he asked and she wrinkled her cute nose, bit her lip.

"I'm I love with you, damn you!"


End file.
